Yellow Crocus: A Novel

by Laila Ibrahim

  Mattie was not entirely surprised when Emily sought her out later that afternoon to tell her she was wanted in the drawing room. Someone must have seen that Lisbeth was upset because the child would not have complained to Mrs. Ann.

  Mattie tapped gently on the drawing room door. The calm expression on her face belied the activity in her heart. She was never comfortable being called into Mrs. Ann’s presence, though these meetings were typically short and to the point.

  When she entered the room and saw both Mr. Wainwright and Mrs. Ann waiting to speak with her she feared the worst. She stood before them, eyes turned down, wiping her sweaty palms on her dress.

  “Mattie, we have news from the Andersons’,” Mrs. Ann stated. “It seems Samuel has disappeared. They want to know if you know anything about it.”

  Mattie’s heart skipped a beat; blood rushed away from her head, making it impossible to focus on the words coming toward her. A hot, nauseous wave swept through her body. It was too soon! They were not supposed to leave for weeks yet!

  “My baby,” escaped from her lips.

  Then she staggered, working to hold herself up while trying to make sense of the words coming out of Mrs. Ann’s mouth as she continued to lecture Mattie.

  Eventually Mr. Wainwright broke in loudly, “Mattie, answer the question. Do you know where Samuel is? Is he being hidden anywhere? He is too young to have gotten far on his own.

  Apparently he has been gone for several days now.”

  “I don’ know nothin’ bout my son. Ask the Good Lord if you want to know where he at.”

  “Now Mattie, angry words are not called for. I am certain the Andersons made him welcome. They are good people. He did not give it enough time. It takes awhile to adjust to a new home.”

  Mattie had no response.

  “They will want to speak with you directly. I will bring you over in the morning. Good night,” declared Mr. Wainwright.

  Early the next morning, Lisbeth stood in the doorway adjoining her room to Mattie’s. She watched as Mattie pulled a clean dress over a crisp white slip. Mattie carefully and efficiently buttoned up the front of her bodice.

  “Mattie, how long will you be gone?” Lisbeth inquired as Mattie adjusted her necklace.

  “Don’ know.”

  “But you will be home to eat dinner with me?” implored Lisbeth.

  “Don’ know.”

  “Oh, Mattie, I am scared for you.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ they can do gonna be worse than my son gone missin’,” Mattie said, though horrible visions of whips, humiliation, and pain ran through her head.

  Mattie fixed her hair in silence while Lisbeth watched.

  “You missed some,” Lisbeth pointed out as Mattie pulled her hair into a bun. Lisbeth reached up to put the stray lock into Mattie’s hand.

  “Thank you, honey,” Mattie said.

  She gave Lisbeth’s hand a quick squeeze as she took the stray hair and then put it in its place. She turned to Lisbeth. Cupping Lisbeth’s chin in her hand, Mattie tipped Lisbeth’s head back until they were looking at each other eye to eye. Staring at one another wordlessly, Mattie gave a small shake of her head, sighed, and pulled Lisbeth into a tight hug. Lisbeth clutched Mattie’s warm body until Mattie pulled away. Mattie looked down at Lisbeth, their arms still wrapped around one another, and said, “I gonna be all right.”

  Mattie rubbed Lisbeth’s soft cheek with her thumb, kissed the top of her head, and stepped back. “Now you get on,” she told her.

  Lisbeth watched Mattie’s skirts disappear through the small back door. After a moment she crossed the room and opened the door to the dim hallway that led to the back staircase. She could no longer see Mattie, but she heard her steps echoing down the stairs. She counted, 1…2…3…up to 13, until she could no longer hear Mattie descending away from her.

  Lisbeth, alone and scared, watched from the window as Father drove Mattie away. She went to her lessons in the drawing room but had difficulty paying attention to Bible passages and arithmetic tables. Most days she ate her midday meal with Mattie, but today she ate with Mother and Jack. Mother acted as if it were common for her to have dinner with her children, but Lisbeth did not go along with the pretense. She met Mother’s inquiries with brief replies and obviously stared out the window looking for Mattie. Jack, on the other hand, happily shared every detail of his day, oblivious to the tension in the room.

  While she tried to eat tasteless barley soup, Lisbeth heard the sound of wheels against gravel. She peered out the window again, but she could not get a good view of the road. Mother heard the sound too, but made no mention of it.

  From the clamor in the entryway Lisbeth knew Father was home. But the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall to the study dashed any hope of news from him. As quickly as possible, Lisbeth finished her meal and went to her rooms to find Mattie.

  But she was not there. Lisbeth’s heart fell when she did not find Mattie in either her large room or the small adjacent one. Although Lisbeth wanted to search for Mattie washing in the kitchen or ironing in the laundry, she did not go looking for her. Mattie would return to assist Lisbeth in getting ready for dinner. In the meantime, Lisbeth had to go with her mother to her lessons at the Cunninghams’.

  The comportment teacher, Miss Taylor, had been teaching the daughters of plantation owners along the James River for as long as anyone remembered. Most ladies under the age of forty had been tutored by her. Etiquette, table manners, elocution, and dance were perfected under her tutelage. She transformed young girls, starting at the age of nine, into young ladies in order to facilitate the most advantageous marriage.

  Lisbeth’s twice-weekly lessons rotated on a monthly basis between the homes of the girls taking them. This gave all the mothers the ability to observe the lessons, see one another’s homes, and play hostess for the women as they waited for their daughters. It also gave them the opportunity to assess their own daughter’s standing in relationship to the other girls.

  Lessons this month were at White Pines, the largest Tidewater estate east of Richmond. The Cunninghams had the distinction of being one of the older families and were thought to be the wealthiest in the area. Their daughter, Emma, ten years old like Lisbeth, was preparing for her debut in the same year. But of more interest to the debutante families was Emma’s fourteen-year-old brother, Edward. As the eldest son he stood to inherit the entire family estate.

  Miss Taylor started lessons with a meal course to impart table manners and proper use of cutlery. They needed to learn about all the courses of a meal, so they rotated which course was served at each lesson. All the girls agreed that the dessert course was their favorite lesson. Soup was the least favorite because there were so many opportunities to be scolded.

  The meal portion of the lesson was followed by comportment.

  “Young ladies may speak to young men about the weather, meals, clothing, and their relatives. Avoid conversation concerning politics, finance, or religion. Though a gentleman may bring up such topics, and a lady must follow where a gentleman leads, a skilled lady will return the conversation to an appropriate topic.”

  The girls feigned interest as Miss Taylor went on, “When speaking with a lady who is older than you, you must follow her lead. Occasionally, though, you will be required to initiate conversation. Fashion, the weather, and inquiries about relations are always appropriate topics among ladies. Do not allow a gentleman to overhear you speaking about courtship, literature, or politics.”

  With so many rules about what to say and what not to say, Lisbeth’s head spun. Her mind drifted to Mattie as Miss Taylor gave instructions about speaking with elderly men. When they practiced their conversation skills, Lisbeth was paired with Camilla Anderson, who remarked loudly enough for all to hear, “Elizabeth, you must have misunderstood. A lady does not speak about relations with an older gentleman!”

  Lisbeth was relieved to move on to dance and away from Camilla.

  “Girls, line up across from
your dance partner,” Miss Taylor commanded. “Today we learn the Virginia Reel. As always, begin by honoring your partner.”

  The “ladies” curtseyed as the “gentlemen” bowed.

  “Miss Ford, that was a perfect curtsey. You all would be wise to follow Miss Ford’s lead,” Miss Taylor said. “Now, repeat after me, forward two steps, back two steps.”

  The girls chimed back, “Forward two steps, back two steps.”

  “Very good. Begin when I return to one. One, two, three, four. One…”

  Miss Taylor plodded through the steps. In truth, she danced terribly with little sense of rhythm. But none of the parents cared; she served her purpose well, preparing their daughters for their debuts.

  The girls would begin attending dances after their twelfth birthdays. Although eighteen or nineteen was the traditional debutante year—the year courting began in earnest—the early years on the dance circuit allowed the families of eligible young men plenty of time to observe the girls and make a decision about whom to invite into their families. Of course, in such a small community, they had been speculating for years about which matches might be made among the Tidewater plantations and which families might go beyond.

  Lisbeth felt grateful Mary Ford was present at these lessons. Still as cooperative as she was as a young child, Mary paid close attention, so Lisbeth needed only to follow her cues. Although Mary never disrupted class, she happily joined Lisbeth afterward to complain about the arrogant Camilla Anderson or to laugh at the awkward Edith Framington.

  “Mary, they took Mattie away today,” Lisbeth whispered to her friend.

  “Who took her? Where?”

  “Father took her to the Andersons’. We sold Samuel to them, Mattie’s son, and then he ran. They want her to tell them where he went.”

  “That explains Camilla’s attitude toward you today.”

  “She does not need an excuse to be rude. I wish to know what will happen to Mattie, but I dare not ask. Mother had dinner with us today and pretended it was entirely common.”

  “How long will she be gone?”

  “I do not know. No one will tell me anything. I expect she will be home when I need her tonight.”

  But Mattie was not waiting to dress Lisbeth for supper. Sullen Emily stood ready to assist Lisbeth. With her usually efficiency, Mrs. Gray had ensured all the functions of the household were filled properly, but no one provided answers to a young girl’s unspoken questions.

  No answers came over supper or in the drawing room after supper. That night, as Lisbeth stared out the window, she said an extra-fervent prayer for her nurse. “Dear Lord, please watch over Mattie tonight and bring her home soon. And bless Mother, Father, Jack, and Grandmother. Amen.”

  Over breakfast the next morning, Lisbeth finally asked Mother when to expect Mattie, but Mother only responded, “This is nothing you need be concerned about. We are handling this issue.”

  Lisbeth did not raise the topic again.

  Two days later, Lisbeth heard a wagon draw up to the back door. Lisbeth continued with her embroidery until it was time to get ready for supper. Wearing a calm mask, Lisbeth slowly climbed the wide, front stairs and walked down the hallway to her rooms. Mattie stood by the window waiting for her. A wave of relief rushed over Lisbeth. Mattie looked fine. Mattie was home.

  “Did you find Samuel?” Lisbeth burst out. “I missed you. I worried so much, but no one told me what became of you. Is Samuel home now?” Lisbeth threw her arms around Mattie in an exuberant embrace. Mattie flinched the instant Lisbeth’s arms touched her back. Feeling the jerk of Mattie’s body, Lisbeth pulled away.

  “What is the matter? Are you hurt?”

  “They gave me some lashin’s. It sore.”

  “But why? How could they?” Lisbeth gaped, entirely stunned. She never expected Mattie to return with wounds. Mother bragged that they did not whip slaves at Fair Oaks. She often stated that only cruel or undisciplined households required the lash.

  “We have to tell Mother and Father what they did to you.”

  “Child, they sure didn’ give me these without askin’ your father first. As to why, only God know why some folks think it okay to hurt others to get what they want. I gotta get you ready for supper on time or there gonna be more trouble for me.”

  A lavish spread, made by the hands of slaves, covered the table: veal cutlets with mushroom catsup, beef steak pie, oyster soup, parsnips, young greens, wine, and apple pudding for dessert. Surrounding the table were the five well-dressed members of the Wainwright household and their four guests, Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham and their children, Edward and Emma.

  “Did you get the little darky returned?” asked Mr. Cunningham.

  “No. Turns out his buck ran away from Berkeley as well. They may have gotten quite far by now. They had a pass.”

  “Where did they get such a thing?” exclaimed Mrs. Cunningham.

  “Looks like some fool is teaching the niggers how to write!”

  Fear rushed through Lisbeth. Her heart beat hard. She started to reach for her water, but her hand noticeably shook. Quickly she hid her hand in her skirt, looking around to see if anyone had noticed her nerves, but no one was paying any attention to her. Her parents did not suspect that she had taught Samuel to write. She could only imagine Father’s fury if he learned that she was responsible for Emmanuel and Samuel’s escape.

  “It is such a shame,” Mother broke in. “We made certain he went to a good family and this is what happens. Mr. Anderson will never buy one of our darkies again.”

  Grandmother Wainwright spoke up, “You know you are too lenient with them. Before you know it we will have lost them all.”

  “Who have they got looking for them?” asked Mr. Cunningham.

  “Ron Reynolds and Geoff Bloom. We want them returned alive and able to work.”

  Alive. The word cut through Lisbeth. Alive! Father wanted them back alive. She considered the alternative. Samuel might be dead? Suddenly Lisbeth understood Mattie’s distress. She listened carefully to the adult conversation. Discussions about escaped slaves were as much a part of the ritual of Saturday dinner as grace, and she generally paid it about the same attention. It never seemed important before, but this mattered to her.

  In the middle of the night, Lisbeth woke from a dream in a rush. Father had been pushing a whip into her hand, repeating, “It is for the best. It is for the best. You will see.” As she lay in the dark, frightened and alone, her heart beat fast while tears seeped from the edges of her eyes. Then she did something she had not done since she was young: she sought out Mattie. Climbing out of her warm bed, she made her way to the small anteroom.

  “Mattie?” Lisbeth whispered as she shivered over her nurse’s form.

  Half asleep, Mattie stirred and shifted to make room for Lisbeth. Her arms spread open to allow Lisbeth to snuggle in close. Lisbeth lay in the dark, held in Mattie’s arms, rubbing the center shell in the hollow of Mattie’s neck just as she had as a little girl. The warmth of Mattie’s bed and body enveloped Lisbeth, driving away her demons. The familiar smell and feel worked their magic and lulled Lisbeth to sleep.

  Chapter 12

  Three days earlier

  Mattie was terrified but didn’t show it. Mr. Wainwright said only one thing on the ride over to the Andersons’. “Tell them what you know, Mattie. It will go easier for you… and for Samuel.”

  As soon as they arrived at the Anderson plantation, the overseer, a dark-haired white man, led Mattie away while Mr. Wainwright went in to speak with Mr. Anderson. He led her away from the grand house to an isolated cabin near the slave dwellings.

  Pointing to a bench outside the lonely hut, the overseer growled, “I’ll deal with you later.”

  Jeb Martin had been at the Anderson plantation for less than a year. He had learned what he knew of working with slaves from his father, who worked at the Williams plantation just seven miles east. The planters considered Mr. Martin to be the best overseer in the county because he got th
e most work out of his slaves without undue force. They encouraged their overseers to take after Mr. Martin, thus reinforcing their self-delusion that they were morally superior to the brutal owners in Georgia, Mississippi, and Alabama. As Jeb was growing up, Mr. Martin instructed him, “Treat your niggers halfway like a man and halfway like a beast and you’ll do all right.”

  Jeb Martin desired to impress his father with his own skills, but now he had trouble. He hadn’t wanted to take the Samuel boy in the first place. He didn’t need a young buck, he needed a few more full-grown ones. But Mr. Anderson had insisted. Apparently he owed Mr. Wainwright some sort of favor. But now the owners blamed Jeb for the boy’s running away.

  Mattie was left to sit for hours without food or water as the sun rose higher and higher in the sky. She feared what was to come. Her lips moved in a silent litany of prayers, “Dear Lord, it me, Mattie. Please watch over my son and make sure he all right. And dear Lord, if it not too much, give me the strength to make it through this day.”

  In the middle of the day, Mattie saw Mr. Wainwright’s carriage drive away. A hot wave of fear washed over her, sucking away her breath. Her hands gripped the bench she sat on. She had been left behind.

  As the sun descended toward the horizon, long shadows marked the earth like a stain. Just as Mattie felt some relief from the beating of the sun Jeb came to deal with her.

  “In,” he said sharply as he pointed to the cabin door beside the bench. Mattie fumbled with the metal latch to open the door. The young overseer did not follow behind, but rather pulled the door firmly closed, leaving Mattie alone in the dark, empty cabin. She heard the sharp echo of metal against wood as the door locked behind her.

  This space felt familiar, but somehow wrong. It was constructed like the Quarters at Fair Oak with walls made from unfinished split-logs and a dusty dirt floor. The eight-by-eight-foot square dwelling was entirely empty with no window openings. Bits of light shone through the cracks in the boards, illuminating the particles of dust floating like stars in the empty space. The hard-packed dirt floor had a tight, circular path worn in the middle made by the pacing of earlier occupants.